


i can’t carry it for you, but i can carry you

by daredvil



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Tough Love, F/M, Femdom, Gentle femdom, Iron Bull POV, Necklace of the Kadan, Pegging, Porn With Plot, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Tough Love, dont look at me idk....., i just love him okay, no beta we die like men, theres bdsm stuff i mean... its iron bull so yea.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredvil/pseuds/daredvil
Summary: Bull knows she asks questions she already has the answers to, but indulges her anyway and lays it on thick when she asks about sex and the Qun.Adaar tilts her head back and laughs, “My mother was a tamassran! You don’t need to tell me any more, thank you very much.”Bull’s mouth quirks at the corner, tucking that fact away to ask about later, “Learn anything useful, vashoth?”Adaar smirks, crossing her arms over her chest, confident but her face flushes slightly all the same. Bull tries not to wonder how far down her blush goes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, qunari?”
Relationships: Adaar/The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Female Adaar/The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	i can’t carry it for you, but i can carry you

**Author's Note:**

> hello welcome to my completely self indulgent iron bull gets pegged fic that took me almost a year to write holy shit lol anyway, forgive me if bull is too ooc!! some of the dialogue is lifted directly from the game, though so that should help... anyway, asala is one of my favorite inquisitors ive made and i just wanted her to take care of bull for once idk.. hope u enjoy!

It’s another cold, sunny morning in Haven, the heavy wooden doors to the training yard open with a creak. The guards by its side greet Asala as she bounds past to do her daily rounds. Ever since recruiting her small little team, Adaar makes time to chat with them every day. Bull watches her flit from person to person, always with a mercenary’s calculating smile on her face. He idly chats with Krem about nothing in particular while keeping an eye on her. 

Cassandra seems to be getting along quite well with Adaar, Bull thinks it has more to do with their shared faith than anything personally in common, yet he watches Adaar manage to get the Seeker to smile. Cullen’s shoulders tense and relax as she speaks and they both blush when Cullen becomes flustered at her flirtatious comments. She reassures him that she was just being friendly with a perfectly sheepish smile and a clasp of his shoulder before she makes her way to the blacksmith. Adaar waves at him as she passes and Bull tilts his head in acknowledgment before turning back to Krem. He listens to her charm Blackwall between various questions about the Wardens and Bull cracks a smile when Blackwall sputters at Adaar’s mention of compliments in her private quarters.

When Bull hears the crunch of snow move towards him, he sends Krem to check on the rest of the Chargers. Krem nods and turns to greet Adaar before leaving. Adaar quickly slips into the space he leaves behind, chirping a quick hello before diving into question after question. Bull has almost missed speaking to someone close to his height, and it doesn’t hurt that Adaar has been Haven’s main focus, being a qunari _and_ the Herald. Bull knows she asks questions she already has the answers to, but indulges her anyway and lays it on thick when she asks about sex and the Qun. 

Adaar tilts her head back and laughs, “My mother was a tamassran! You don’t need to tell me any more, thank you very much.”

Bull’s mouth quirks at the corner, tucking that fact away to ask about later, “Learn anything useful, _vashoth_?”

Adaar smirks, crossing her arms over her chest, confident but her face flushes slightly all the same. Bull tries not to wonder how far down her blush goes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, _qunari_?”

Bull chuckles and raises his hands in mock defeat, moving on to talk about how he was selected for the Ben-Hassrath. 

————

Bull quickly becomes Adaar’s favorite warrior to bring on missions. They work well together on the field, finding an easy rhythm even with different fighting styles. Though Adaar _is_ tall, Bull still draws the most attention, leaving perfect places for Adaar to surprise enemies with her daggers. Plus, bandits already get nervous seeing one qunari, two is enough to send them running.

After clearing out the East Road of bandits, Adaar begins to set up camp. She asks Cassandra and Solas to set up the tents while her and Bull gather firewood. Bull makes a spectacle of swinging the woodcutter’s axe, even if it’s much smaller than his usual weapon. Adaar laughs good-naturedly when he flexes his pecs in her direction.

“I can finally see the advantages of using an axe,” she says flirtatiously. 

“Beyond being able to tear things to pieces in a second?” Bull chops clean through another tree. “Your daggers are cute but I’ll stick with the best, thanks.”

“Y’know, Bull,” Adaar adds more wood to her arms, “I actually used a greatsword when I started as a mercenary. A Bassrath-Kata, actually, belonged to my mother.”

Bull stares at her arms, imagines her tearing through enemies with ease. His pulse rushes in his ears. “That’s hot,” he grunts. 

Adaar flexes her biceps with a wink. 

————

It’s bitingly cold, he wishes he had taken more fur to wear before joining the celebration. 

Before Haven was laid waste. Before Adaar brought down an avalanche to save them. Before she disappeared.

 _Probably dead_ , Bull thinks to himself, _right when she actually acted like a qunari. A_ real _qunari._

Varric is pressed against his arm, hands furiously rubbing together. Across the fire, Sera is huddled into Blackwall’s side while Dorian decides between freezing or losing his dignity. In the end, human need wins out and Dorian sits stiffly by Blackwall’s side, barely touching him until Blackwall puts an arm around his shoulder. Bull watches Dorian relax slightly, Bull’s heart pounds in his chest.

 _Don’t be dead_ , he thinks.

The fire crackles, the snow falls, Bull hopes against hope.

Cullen’s desperate shout carries on the wind, “There she is! It’s her!”

The five of them watch anonymous soldiers carry Adaar’s body into a tent while Cullen and Cassandra bark out orders for hot water and all furs that can be spared.

Bull sucks in a breath, the cold making his nose burn. _Not dead_. 

Varric begins to take off his thick jacket before Bull stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Bull shakes his head at him before he takes a length of fur off his own back. 

He goes to the healer’s tent and it’s surprisingly serene, the Herald simply being alive seems to have calmed many of the survivors. Everyone except for Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine; Bull ignores their bickering as he reaches the entrance. 

Mother Giselle comes out just as he reaches to pull apart the tarp. She looks at him curiously and he raises the fur in his hand in response. 

“Can I see her?” he asks, _will she live?_ he thinks.

“Try not to disturb Her Worship,” Mother Giselle nods and steps past him, waving to someone behind him. “Will you please call for Solas and more hot water for the Herald, please?”

Seeing Adaar half frozen and trembling while unconscious makes him frown, the heavy pit of worry in his gut settles deeper. Her lips and fingertips are still tinged purple and blue, neon green light pulses faintly from her frozen shut fist, but her steady breathing loosens the knot in Bull’s stomach somewhat. He tucks the bear pelt around her chest and neck, pushing her icy hair away from her throat. 

Bull can’t distinguish white hair from snow and ice, it’s all frozen together on her head. He watches puffs of air leave her mouth and pushes a chunk of frozen hair away from her cheek. His hand lingers until all his warmth is gone and her hair has thawed.

————

Bull hasn’t seen much of Adaar on the trek up the mountain, he fell to the back of the herd sometime during the hike to keep everyone together. Today, however, she seems to be making the rounds to see her inner circle. 

Across the courtyard, Bull sees her greet Sera, serious until they make each other laugh, then Vivienne, Adaar’s shoulders thrown back to preserve her dignity, and she walks along the battlements with Blackwall before coming around to see him.

Adaar offers an unassuming smile as she comes up to his side, “Hey there, Bull.”

“Hey yourself, I knew you’d be too stubborn to die, vashoth.”

Adaar laughs, surprised and blushing, “I guess I am!” Her voice suddenly becomes thick with emotion, “Varric told me that you visited me while I was knocked out and I just wanted to thank you for, uh, the fur,” she swallows with some difficulty and meets his gaze, “Thank you for not leaving me alone.”

Bull sees her eyes shine with tears and pulls her into his side, patting her shoulder as she wraps her arms around him. “I know almost dying can change a person, but I never thought you’d get all emotional,” Adaar laughs into his chest. “Don’t worry about it, boss.”

Adaar pulls back and hastily wipes her eyes, “Thanks, Bull. I’ve got to go now, Cassandra has something important she wants to discuss.” 

“Go on,” he says, “You know where to find me.” 

Adaar nods and bounds towards the centre hall, turning after a few strides to wave back at him.

“Damn, you big oaf,” Krem’s voice doesn’t startle Bull but he somehow feels caught in the act, _of what?_ he asks himself. “You and the Herald, huh?”

“ _No_ , Krem.”

Krem scratches his chin, pretending to contemplate something. “Well, it seemed friendly enough. If you don’t make a move then I think I will, she’s very pretty.”

Bull ruffles Krem’s hair as he turns to go into the tavern. “Fucking your boss’ boss is bad business!”

Krem swats away Bull’s hand and elbows him in the ribs, “I’m just kidding, I’m not making a move on your woman.” 

Bull doesn’t reply, just walks into the tavern with a small smile.

Two drinks with Krem later, a Chantry sister comes in to summon everyone to the courtyard outside. Bull has half a mind to stay inside, enjoy the quiet of the tavern until Krem hops down from the barstool, jerking his head towards the door. Bull downs his ale and follows Krem out the door to join the crowd milling about. 

On the platform halfway up the stairs, Adaar stands between Leliana and Cassandra, the expression on her face somewhere between bewilderment and amazement. 

Her voice carries across the now quiet lawn, “But I’m not even human! You’d trust all this to a qunari?”

“Not a qunari,” Cassandra says plainly, “You.”

Adaar takes a deep breath, reaches for the sword in Leliana’s hands with shaky fingers.

“I won’t do this for my own power or glory,” she turns to face the crowd, sword held by her side, “Corypheus will never let me nor my allies rest, he’s made that clear, so we will defeat him to bring order to our world. I will fight because it is the right thing to do, I’m honored if you follow.” 

“Wherever you lead us,” Cassandra affirms. 

Adaar scans the crowd as they cheer in enthusiastic support, she meets Bull’s eye and grins down at him. 

————

Bull waits for her in her quarters once she leaves the library for her afternoon tea with Vivienne, her routine already memorized after just a month in Skyhold. His back is to the stairs as he pokes through her library, picking up and putting down a book now and again. The lock’s tumblers turn and the door squeaks as she pushes it open. He hears her feet patter up the steps in time with the Ferelden drinking song she sings under her breath, Bull’s almost certain Varric taught her the raunchiest version he knows. When she finally turns the corner, her feet skid to a stop and she gasps. 

“Oh!” Adaar’s hand flies over her mouth as Bull almost lazily turns his head to look over his shoulder. “Maker’s mercy, Bull, you scared me half to death!” Adaar laughs nervously and shakes her head as she walks over to him then plants herself onto her desk gracelessly. “To what do I owe this visit?” She leans back on her hands, kicking her feet ever so slightly as she grins up at him.

Bull fully turns to face her and stands just in front of her knees, arms crossed. “So, listen, I’ve caught the hints. I get what you’re saying. You want to ride the Bull.” He smirks at the hitch in her breath, knows she’ll be blushing in just a second. “Can’t say I blame you, but I’m not sure you know what you’re asking.”

“Oh, I think I know, Bull.”

He jerks his chin up, a small challenge. “Not sure if you’re ready for it.”

Adaar shifts to sit up straight, her fingertips just barely touching the desk now. “I’m ready.”

“See,” he begins was fake apprehensiveness, “You _really_ don’t know what that means.” 

Her eyes are bright with a dangerous edge he usually only sees in battle. “Why not show me?”

Bull moves forwards, pulling her hips toward his and flattens her to lay against the desk, chest to chest. He lowers his face to hers, close enough to kiss, he watches her eyes flick to his lips then back up.

“Last chance, Asala.” He relishes the way she shivers and grins when he calls her by her name. 

“Won’t you please stay?” 

He lowers his head to kiss her, her lips are warm and soft against his. 

————

Bull had almost forgotten what it’s like to not have to bend over to kiss someone, among other things, it’s just as nice as he remembers. Asala sits beside him redoing her lengthy braid with deft fingers, one of her thighs pressed up against his ribs. Bull brushes a hand from her shoulder down her back, pale grey against dark grey, smiling when she sighs as his hand passes over a bruise or old scar. 

“Tell me, _the_ Iron Bull,” she finishes her braid and ties it off before turning to lay on her stomach, her cheek on his chest angled just so her horns are out of the way. Bull’s hand moves to rest on her waist, his forefinger idly traces a small scar there. “Are you sure there aren’t any male tamassrans, and are you sure you aren’t one of them?” She waggles her brows and giggles when he rolls his eye with humored exasperation. “Y’know, like you said, ‘leaves you walking funny’ and all that.”

“You look way too happy with yourself, you know.” Bull says it deadpan but Asala still finds a thread of fondness in the words so she sticks her tongue at him teasingly. He moves his hand to push some stray hair behind her pointed ear, tracing the shell of it before he rests his hand at the nape of her neck. They look at each other for a moment, Bull finds himself counting the freckles dusting her face. He meets her eyes, the Fade’s green almost too intense. He remembers that she once said that before the Anchor that her eyes were brown, he imagines what she would look like. “You should sleep now, I won’t be able to keep you hidden away forever.”

Asala sighs dramatically and rolls off him, careful of her horns, curls up to her pillows. “I know, I know,” she groans with her face smushed against the fabric.

Bull can’t help but smile then gets up himself, by the time he’s dressed it seems as if Asala is asleep. Tucked in on herself, almost like a child. He pulls the covers over her and pauses to squeeze her shoulder gently. Asala’s hand shoots out to grab Bull when he turns away. He looks back at her, surprised that he didn’t think to check if she was actually asleep. 

“Thank you, Bull,” She halfway turns her face out of her pillows, just enough for him to see her smile.

Bull rubs his thumb over the back of her hand gently. “Anytime, boss.”

———

Asala’s new favorite haunt is by Bull’s usual spot in the tavern. This afternoon, her elbows are propped on the arm of his chair with a hand supporting her head as they talk about their new relationship. He can tell she thinks she’s being coy when she asks about what he needs. Bull shakes his head, says this is about her and that he gets more than enough out of this, thank you. 

Asala smiles, takes one of his hand in hers and squeezes it, “Well if anything ever changes, please let me know. I want you to be taken care of as well.” She winks at him. “Daughter of a _tama_ , remember?”

Bull barks out a laugh, amused and a little turned on, “Ah, so she _did_ teach you some things!” 

“Maybe one day you’ll let me show you,” she looks cocky when she says it, but Bull knows as soon as they’re alone she’ll melt even before he gets his hands on her. 

“Probably won’t happen, boss. Thanks for the offer anyway.” He squeezes her hand back.

Asala shrugs, not too affected by the rejection, and offers to buy him a drink after pressing a kiss to his cheek.

————

As the dreadnaught burns, she takes his hand, lacing her fingers between his. The rain and smoke burns his eye, he shuts it tight.

“Let’s get you back to your boys, Bull.”

————

His shoulder still stings where the assassin’s dagger sliced him, his ears still ring as if he’d just blown the signal horn again. Tal-vashoth. Damn, _damn_. A firm hand on his shoulder reminds him where he is: Asala’s quarters. To him, her oversized Orlesian bed almost feels too soft; like he might sink into the plush mattress if he lets himself relax. 

“Hey, Iron Bull, you with me?” She’s standing between his spread legs as he sits on her bed. Bull sighs heavily and presses his face into her stomach as he wraps his arms around her waist. She cradles his head, gently scratching the spot where skin meets horn and he groans. “Can I... ah, will you let me?” He knows what she’s asking and all at once he’s afraid; afraid of asking for it, afraid of wanting it.

Bull can’t bring himself to speak so he just nods slowly into her low-cut sleepshirt, breathes her in through the satin. She smells more familiar with each night they spend together; rose soap recommended by Cassandra clings to her skin, lavender on her clothes from the sprigs she keeps in her wardrobe, mint from the leaves she’s constantly chewing. The blend of it all strikes him as so distinctly _Asala_ it makes warmth bloom in his chest. After another few deep breaths, he gives a hum of consent. Bull can feel Asala’s heartbeat thrumming like a bird, but her hands are steady when they reach for the knot of his eyepatch.

“You know the word, yes?” Bull nods again, nose pressed to her navel, but Asala doesn’t move to untie the leather yet. “No, Bull, I need you to say it.”

“Katoh.” His throat is tight when he says it, voice strained and not his own.

“Good, no need to keep quiet,” Asala says it gently enough, but Iron Bull knows a command when he hears one. He deflates when he feels the knot unfurl, doesn’t pull himself away from her or open his eye. She does it for him, slowly pushing him back by his unharmed shoulder while cupping his head with the other, keeping the patch in place for now. When he’s no longer resting against her, she pulls her hands away and drops the eyepatch onto her bedside table. “This is going to sting a bit.”

Bull grunts, “No worse than it is now.”

He can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks, “You’re probably right.” 

The porcelain bowl Asala has made a poultice in clinks against her nails, she lifts out a dab and presses some gently to his shoulder. He allows himself to hiss through his teeth but doesn’t flinch so she can work. She kisses an apology to the top of his head and continues to apply the herbs, finally stopping to wrap his shoulder with a soft cotton bandage. 

“Stand up for me, Bull.” Asala takes his hands in hers and pulls him up slowly. Bull stands without resistance and feels some tension melt out of his shoulders knowing, at least for a while, he just has to listen and obey. “Look at me.” 

He opens his eye and sees Asala’s quiet smile before she rises slightly on her toes to kiss him, moving her hands to his face and drags her thumbs across his cheekbones. Asala’s kiss is gentle, closed mouth and tender, Bull kisses her back and feels glad for the hundredth time he doesn’t have to strain to kiss her. Bull allows himself to enjoy the slide of their lips and when she drags her tongue against the seam of his lips, he parts them. He slides his arms around her waist, squeezing her when she playfully bites his lip.

Asala pulls away with a smile and quick kiss to his jaw, Bull smiles back. “Step forward,” she says, “I’m going to take off your clothes. Only move what I tell you to, understand?”

Bull nods and does as she says, feet slightly apart and holds his arms out with his elbows slightly bent. Asala hums appreciatively and begins to unbuckle the front of his harness, sliding the leather out of the metal clasp before moving behind him to do the same. She places a kiss on his shoulder blade as she moves his shoulder pauldron down his arm, placing it on the floor by her nightstand. 

“Good.” 

Bull makes a sound deep in his chest, feeling the tightness in his throat loosen up just a bit at the praise. He has to focus on his breath now that Asala’s hands move to the belt around his waist. Her hands undo the belt quickly and she turns away briefly to fold it and place it by his eyepatch. She moves back in front of him and only pauses for a moment to admire his tattoos before moving on. Bull finds Asala’s hands steady and sure when she removes his pants, but he knows that, at least for now, this isn’t sexual. After all, she isn’t blushing, even after seeing the lack of undergarments. He almost wishes she was and his mouth ticks up thinking about all the other times they’ve been in this position. 

Asala looks up at him when his pants reach his ankles, piercing emerald eyes through silvery lashes. “Sit, hands at your sides.”

Bull shuffles back just an inch or two, and sits with more elegance than one should have with his pants around his ankles. Asala undoes his ankle greave and knee brace and slides them off to tug at his boot laces, left and right gone and tucked under her bed before he knows it. His pants finally come off and Asala folds them and tosses them onto the floor. 

“Go sit in the lounge, facing the fireplace,” she turns away to rummage through her nightstand while he moves, slower now that he begins to feel heat pooling low in his groin. 

Bull deposits himself where Asala commanded, breathing deeply through his nose as he waits for her. He hears her find what she needs and the wooden drawer shuts. Asala moves to stand behind him and leans forward to kiss the crown of Bull’s head. He gives a small hum of appreciation but doesn’t move, almost anxious to know what she’ll do next. Her nails clink against glass this time as he hears a jar open and is hit with the smell of heavy, thick spice. Bull groans, low and deep, and flexes his fists helplessly.

Asala chuckles warmly, “I thought you might say that,” she kisses his head again then closes the jar to place it in Bull’s right hand, “Going to clean your horns first.”

Asala throws her hair into a bun at the base of her head and begins to clean, alternating between a rough cloth and cleaning brush, moving from base to tip smoothly. Bull traces the lid of the jar lazily and sighs every so often if Asala reaches a particularly itchy patch. Flakes of dry horn pile onto Bull’s shoulder and the couch, Asala brushes them away with her hand and murmurs that she’ll clean it later. Once both his horns are exfoliated, she tosses the brush and cloth beside Bull and leans forward to open the jar while leaving it in his grip. She scoops a handful out and rubs it between her hands, places it at the base of one of his horns making Bull let out a deep moan. Her hands massage the balm up in slow, indulgent circles, every few inches pausing to generously apply more. 

“One horn all done,” her hands rest at the base of the other horn, fingers massaging his skin as her mark hums by ear, “You still with me, Bull?”

“Yes, Asala,” he says softly.

Asala mirrors her movements onto the other horn, applying extra balm where Bull’s eye patch harness sits, bending over to kiss the nape of his neck as she finishes. 

“Any spots I missed?” Her hands drop to rub down his neck onto his shoulders, the warmth of the balm making his skin tingle.

“No, Asala,” Bull raises his hand to drape over hers and hums when she kisses him again. 

A moment of comfortable silence before Asala moves, pulling her hands away to close the jar and take it from him. She tucks it away and moves to stand in front of Bull, a small smirk on her face as she sees he’s already half hard. The feeling in the room shifts, suddenly tense and electric when she meets his gaze.

“Up.” 

Bull stands immediately, bowing his head to look at her feet. 

“Good boy,” Asala holds her hand out within his view, he takes it without being prompted. She pulls him away and leads him back to the foot of her bed, back facing the doors to the balcony. “Bend over, hands on the footboard.” Bull lets himself be arranged by Asala, her hands gently push him to her standards and once he’s in place she hums, pleased. “Stand if you’re uncomfortable, otherwise don’t move.”

Bull closes his eye, listens to Asala’s boots click away from him and counts her steps. It takes her six paces to reach the trunk by her desk, _Bull’s_ trunk. As she opens it and begins to look through Bull’s mind wanders, trying to imagine what she’ll pick and he, again, takes relief in knowing he doesn’t have to decide tonight. After a minute, Asala closes the trunk and makes her way back to Bull’s side. She takes her free hand, keeping whatever she’s chosen out of his line of sight, and raises his head by his chin. 

Her voice is even when she speaks, “I want you to count,” Bull feels cock jump when he realizes what she’s chosen. “You know your word?”

He nods and she drops his chin, he lets his head hang so his chin touches his chest. Asala whips the cat-o’-nine-tails through the air, _swish_ , testing the weight and her strength. Swish, swish, swish- _smack!_

Bull grunts as the first bite of the leather hits his skin, he holds his breath for a moment to just feel the sting ground him then lets it out of his nose slowly. 

“Was that alright?” she asks, voice perfectly even.

“One,” he says in lieu of a proper answer. Asala doesn’t respond, just allows Bull to feel the pain then anticipate the next blow. _Smack! “_ Two.”

The second one is harder, his back sings with fresh welts and Bull squeezes the footboard harder. _Smack!_

After every blow, Bull obediently counts; head emptying with each rhythmic hit from the flogger. Spikes of pain bleeding into an ache before the next whip. He focuses on leather hitting his skin, his panting breaths, the occasional click of Asala’s shoes. Without warning, Asala shifts her trajectory and strikes his ass, dragging a loud, strangled noise out of Bull. He pants for a moment, waiting for the next hit but instead Asala roughly drags her nails down his back, making Bull groan.

“Forgetting something?” Asala’s voice is steely, touched with contempt. Before Bull can answer her, she runs her nails across the fresh welts on his backside.

Bull barks out a number, suspects he’s lost count, but Asala is forgiving and tuts just once before she strikes his ass again, the flick of her wrist not quite as merciful.

“Ten more, count them properly now.” 

“Yes, ser.”

The hum she makes isn’t disapproving, a little amused, but Bull doesn’t have much time to think before she hits him again. Ten blows, alternating between his back and ass, counted properly. The last hit is particularly sharp, right at the small of his back, making tears burn behind Bull’s eye. He dutifully stays in place while Asala returns the whip to its place but allows himself to roll his shoulders, making pain bloom along his back again. Asala moves back to his side and drags one finger along a welt, kissing Bull’s shoulder when he groans but doesn’t pull away. She gently but firmly takes his hands off the footboard and moves him to sit on the bed, he groans when his ass touches the sheets.

“Undress me.”

Bull’s arms move to remove her shirt first, untucking it from her laced up trousers. His calluses catch on the material occasionally but he pays it no mind, moving forward with single minded determination. She lifts her arms as he raises the shirt off her, moving it over her horns with ease, revealing her soft breast band which he swiftly unwraps. Asala takes the shirt and band to toss them away from the bed then she places one foot beside Bull, lets him unlace her boot and remove it, and does the same with the other. As he moves, he winces and sometimes halts to catch his breath as the pain ebbs and flows, each reaction grants a small twitch of Asala’s lips but never near a full smile. 

Once Asala’s boots are moved aside, Bull unties the front of her trousers, shifting it down her hips until it pools on the floor. Asala steps out of them to straddle Bull, pulling one of his hands between her legs and the other to rest on her hip. She places his hand to cup her, gently pushing his fingers to feel her entrance, then moves her hand away. Bull hums when he feels how wet she is, it makes her chuckle softly. Asala moves her hands to rest on his shoulders, nails deliberately digging into welts at the tops of his shoulder blades. Bull’s hands stay still until Asala rolls her hips down. One of his fingers slides over her then pushes against her clit gently, making her sigh. 

He pushes a finger inside her, pumping a few times before adding another. The wet, hot slide of her makes him groan and tilt his head up, grazing his lips along her jaw until she lets him kiss her lips. Asala shifts her hips down in time with him, her face quickly becoming flushed.

“Another,” she breathes against his mouth before kissing him again.

He obeys, pressing the heel of his palm to her clit as he works another thick finger in. Asala touches her tongue to his lips and he immediately opens his mouth for her, he sucks gently at her tongue as he grinds his hand against her. Asala moans against his mouth, pushing against his palm to greedily chase her own release. Bull moves his fingers quicker, curling them slightly as he pushes in, pulling away from Asala’s mouth just to hear her moan again.

“I want to make you come,” he says gruffly.

Asala pushes her forehead to his, smiling, “Faster and I won’t be long.”

Bull nods and moves to bite her collarbone, sucking a bruise into her skin as he obeys her orders. Asala rolls against his hand, whispers _yes, yes, there!_ so breathlessly Bull almost misses it.

Asala keens as she tightens around his fingers, he grinds against her clit furiously. Bull licks up her neck, moaning in unison with her, only wishing she was coming around his cock.

Asala takes a moment, breathing heavily as she rests her temple against one of Bull’s horns. Bull gently takes his fingers out of her, soothingly kissing her neck when she whines at the loss. Asala reaches down to hold his wrist, bringing up to his mouth as she leans away. 

“Open,” she commands. Bull opens his mouth, his tongue just barely resting on his lip. Asala gently directs his fingers to his tongue, letting out a pleased hum when she sees his pupil dilate. 

Bull’s eye shuts as Asala pushes his fingers into his mouth. Her taste floods his mouth and he involuntarily rolls his hips upwards. Asala kisses his wrist before taking his hand away. 

“Good boy,” she says. 

Asala moves off his lap, using his hands for support when her knees wobble for a moment. She chuckles and bends her head down to kiss him, squeezing his palms gently. Bull lets out a huff through his nose, letting his tongue slip past his lips to touch hers before she pulls away. She kisses his temple as she pulls her hands out of his, moving to the table by the bed. 

“Just a moment, Bull.”

Asala leans her weight onto one leg as she rummages through the nightstand, Bull admires the way it makes her ass look, she finally pulls out two flasks and places them in his view. One is an elfroot salve and one is the slippery, warm oil they’ve used together before. He looks from the bottles then up at her, her face is carefully blank, unassuming as she takes a step back. 

“Oh, I see,” he breathes.

Asala nods, “All you need to choose is how to end the night, Bull, I’ll take care of it after that. No pressure, I’m happy to do either.” 

They’ve spoken about this before, mostly flirtations while on missions meant to rile each other up but nothing concrete, yet there is no command there. Bull almost wishes that she was making this choice for him, but he knows that she’s making the right call. Asala doesn’t speak, just watches him think. Bull meets her eyes and gives a slight nod, reaching his hand forward to take the oil.

Asala flashes him a smile and trots back over to the trunk before speaking to him over her shoulder.

“Keep your eye on me, take care not to agitate your knee or shoulder,” She bends over and takes a leather harness out of the trunk, smirk growing when she sees Bull’s breath come faster. She steps into it and raises it onto her hips as Bull lies back and coats his fingers in oil. 

Bull shifts to lay halfway on his side, legs falling open. He pushes a first finger inside and feels himself get fully hard, letting out a small _oh_ when he sees Asala smile at him. As he works himself, Asala reaches to grab one of the false cocks out of the trunk. She holds one in each hand, making a show of deciding. One is average-sized, wooden and polished smooth; the other is larger, around Bull’s size, and made of heavy, clear glass. Bull’s breath stutters when Asala places the wooden toy back in the trunk. She smiles and starts securing the glass into her harness; in less than a minute she’s put everything in place, buttery leather flattened tight to her skin and glass cock on display. 

“Another finger,” Asala commands. Bull obeys, eyes seemingly glued to her hips as she walks towards him. Asala lazily strokes the glass with one hand, the other holding a small length of soft rope.

After another minute or so, Asala touches his forearm, stopping his movement. She looks at him for a moment then pulls his hand away. She drops the rope by his head, leaning over to reach her nightstand to grab a cloth. She wipes his hand with it and motions for him to move backward after taking the oil from his side. 

“Lie on your back.” 

Bull raises himself up on his hands, wincing at the fresh wave of pain but never stopping. He tries to place himself as center as he can while watching Asala toss the cloth away. She turns once he stops moving, eyes gleaming. Bull lets his legs part again, a slight tremble passes through him when Asala climbs onto the bed. Her cock sways as she kneels beside him, sliding her hands up his legs as she makes her way between them. 

“Good boy. Now you’re going to keep your hands to yourself,” Asala grips his wrists, quickly binding them together before pushing them above his head, mindful of his horns. “Feel alright?” she asks. Bull flexes and wriggles his wrists, testing the rope’s strength with a small pull before nodding. “Perfect,” Asala breathes.

She starts to gently push his knees back until his thighs touch his stomach, kissing his collarbone when he quietly huffs at the pain. She dips two fingers into the pot and rubs them to warm the oil. Bull’s skin flushes and he sighs when he feels Asala’s fingers press into him, pushing in until she finds his prostate. Bull bucks his hips against her, making Asala push against that spot again as she wraps her other hand around his cock. 

“Shit, Asala—!” his voice cuts off into a hiss, pulse racing in his ear. Bull’s hands clutch at the air while his hips push up into her hand. Asala strokes unhurriedly, her fingers working at nearly the same pace. Bull groans when Asala pulls out of him, she kisses his hip then his stomach before teasingly biting the soft skin below his navel.

Asala pulls away to apply oil to the glass then closes the pot to push it to the other edge of the bed. Asala lines up the glass with Bull’s entrance and leans forward, cupping Bull’s face with her clean hand to give him a fierce kiss. Bull lets his mouth open to press his tongue against hers as she pushes in, bit by bit the cold glass is warmed by him. Asala’s hips roll forward slowly but she doesn’t pause as she kisses Bull breathless. She bottoms out with a small thrust, her hips flush with Bull’s, and they moan in unison at the contact. 

“There we go, you’re a good boy for taking my cock so well,” Asala’s face is flushed, Bull likes knowing she isn’t as unaffected by this as she acts. “Does it feel good?” 

Her question is punctuated by a roll of her hips, not pulling out just yet, just wanting to make him feel it.

Bull nods, “Yes,” he pushes himself back on her as best he can. “More.”

“Hm,” Asala pretends to contemplate his request, “Alright, only because you’ve been good so far,” She pulls out slowly, sinking back into him with a snap of her hips that makes Bull groan. “Next time you better ask _nicely_.”

She fucks him with a steady, deep rhythm, hands gripping his thighs for leverage to push the glass cock into him at an angle that makes Bull bite back an undignified shout. The unyielding glass forces Bull’s thoughts out of his mind, only being able to focus on the feel of it inside him and Asala’s hot hands on his thighs. 

“Ah, ser,” Bull starts, panting, “Faster, please.”

Asala bends over him, smiling before her teeth sink mercilessly into the skin of his chest, pulling a sob from Bull’s throat. As she pulls away, Asala drags her tongue the dark, purple-grey mark she’s made, smirking up at Bull’s broken, desperate expression. 

“I like when you say please, Bull,” She gives him a sharp, harsh thrust as she bites right into his neck, “Do it again.”

Bull tries to even his breathing as he turns his head slightly to let Asala have more of his neck to abuse, “ _Please_ , ser.”

Bull feels like all the air is forced out of him once Asala starts moving again, just as steady as before but now he can really feel her strength being put to good use. The way she fucks him is so like the way she fights, calculated and perfect, she knows exactly how to use her body. If Bull was thinking clearly, he might’ve made a mental note to ask her how many people she’s fucked like this before. He can’t see her face as she continues to mark him up, the pain only serving to make him impossibly harder, her hot breath and quiet grunts against him feel perfect. 

Bull doesn’t know how long they stay like that, his brain too clouded to have any sense of time, “Fuck… Asala, feels, ngh—” Bull’s words fade into a sigh as Asala pulls back, leaning her weight back on her knees as her hips continue to move. 

One of her hands grabs his chest, pinching and tugging one of his nipples between her fingers and Bull’s open mouthed moan makes her look delighted.

“Maker, you’re so good. So perfect, look at you,” her other hand moves down his thigh, dragging her nails across his skin before wrapping her fingers around his cock.

Bull’s hands clench uselessly, grunting as he tries to thrust into Asala’s touch so she shushes him reassuringly.

“I’ll make you feel good, but don’t you dare come until I say you can,” Asala smirks at Bull’s immediate and thoughtless nods. “Eager to please, hm? I like that.” 

Every thrust and stroke serves to make Bull feel somehow even more open and exposed, like a raw nerve. He keeps his eye shut tight, knowing that whatever Asala’s expression may be might make him come before he’s given permission. 

“Please, Asala!” he chokes out when her cock brushes against that spot inside him, in time with an upward stroke on his cock that makes him feel so good it makes him dizzy. 

“Who knew you could be such a good boy?” Asala purrs, seemingly doubling her efforts to make him come. Her thighs slap against him, pistoning in and out of him at a relentless pace as her fist flies over his cock. “Fuck, Bull, do you feel good? I bet you do,” she croons breathlessly, “I bet you wanna come, huh? Wanna come on my cock, my good boy?”

Bull’s wrists tug at the restraints as he moans brokenly, hips trying to match Asala’s thrust for thrust as his eye stings with tears and he chants _yes, ah, yes please!_

“Begging so nicely!” Asala praises, out of breath, “As a reward, Bull, you can come.”

“Asala, _fuck_ , I— oh—!” It takes another minute before he does, Bull keens in near overstimulation as Asala continues to stroke him through his orgasm and he feels his mouth fall open in a sob when his hot release spreads over his stomach and chest.

Asala’s eyes don’t leave his face as she slows then finally stops her hips, not pulling out yet, she moves her hands to rest on his hips. She kisses the parts of him she can reach without making an even bigger mess, gently shushing his small, gentle murmurs and groans with soft kisses to his jaw before she pulls back, trying to hide a smile. 

Bull finally manages to open his eye, breath finally evening out after a minute or so, he admires the way she looks above him before he notices he’s also managed to come on her chest. He opens his mouth and tries to make a move forward to lick it off her but he feels too exhausted to lift his head even that small amount. He tries to reach out with a hand but the resistance of his restraints remind him he can’t, he has half a mind to tear right through the rope. Asala chuckles and whispers for him to open up before she swipes a thumb over her nipple, gathering up his release on the pad of her finger then placing it into his waiting mouth. 

She has a lopsided smile on her face as he sucks eagerly, only part for show, then he feels her press her thumb down under his tongue. She holds his mouth open, her thumb and index finger tucked into the socket of his jaw, firm but not rough. 

“So pretty like this, Bull.” 

He shuts his eye and makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, breathing sharply through his open mouth as she leans forward again, the glass inside him shifts, sending another jolt of heat through him. She wipes the rest of his release off of him with her free hand’s fingertips, wiping it onto his tongue every few seconds. Once she deems him mostly clean, Asala presses a hot kiss to the corner of his top lip as she holds his jaw open, he can feel her smiling. She lets go and gently pushes his jaw shut, slowly pulls her hips away and slips out of him. Bull groans as he swallows and his head lolls back to the pillow below him. 

The clean up is a calm, comfortable haze for Bull; Asala swiftly unties the knot holding his hands up and she rubs the feeling back into them. He feels a damp cloth clean his skin before she gently rolls him over, laughing when he grumbles in protest. The elfroot salve rubbed into the welts littering his skin feels warm and familiar, the sharp smell helping to bring him back down into himself. He’s rolled over again then a wooden mug of water is brought to his lips and he feels as if he drinks for an eternity before Asala pulls it away. He hears her place the harness and glass in the trunk by her desk.

Through it all Bull keeps his eye shut until he feels Asala slide into the bed beside him, pulling the covers over them both. She curls into his side, tucking her feet under his calves and throws her arm over his chest to trace the marks she’s left, leftover salve on her fingertips spark warmth over the bruises. 

“Asala,” He finally cracks his eye open to look at her, covering her hand with his own. She looks up and offers him a small smile, Bull sees that she’s shy, unsure if she’s done a good job. He wants to kiss every inch of her body. “Thank you,” He manages to kiss almost every freckle on her face between her giggles before they fall asleep.

————

Bull wakes to find the bed empty. Panic seizes him for a moment before he sits up and sees Asala across the room. Her white hair spilling over her back and shoulders in the moonlight makes her look almost like a spirit. Her back is turned, forehead against the cool glass of the balcony doors. Bull gets up, gingerly at first as the cold bites his skin but he quickly moves past it. Asala doesn’t move even as Bull wraps himself around her, he bends to rest his chin on her shoulder for a minute. 

Bull takes one of her elbows and spins her to face him. Asala’s eyes are shining, her lips gently quivering, she can only meet his eye for a moment before she tucks her face into his neck. Bull squeezes her into a tight hug, one hand strokes her hair down her back as she shakes with silent sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and Asala’s arms wrap around him, hands helplessly clutching at his back. “I’m sorry I left you alone to make that choice. My choice. I shouldn’t have done that to you, Asala.”

Bull pulls her away from him and wipes tears from the corners of her eyes with a finger as Asala tries to take deep, shuddering breaths between small hiccups. He takes her face in his hands to kiss her wet cheeks, her forehead, her nose, the scar above her eyebrow. Silent _I love you_ ’s laid into her slate grey skin. He kisses her closed eyelids and thumps his forehead on hers. Asala’s stopped crying, her hands pressed to his chest, Bull can feel her cold fingertips and he wonders just how long she’s been up. They breathe with each other for a minute until Asala snakes her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly.

“Back to bed?” Bull asks, rubbing her back.

She doesn’t speak, just nods, when she makes to pull away Bull just picks her up and throws her legs around his hips. Asala laughs, bright and only a little hoarse, somehow still surprised she’s able to be lifted so easily. Bull smiles into her hair, his guilt assuaged for the night.

————

Bull makes a face at Asala when he learns he’s left behind on her next mission into the Hinterlands. She laughs at his expression before peppering kisses on his face, promising that she’ll take him on the next outing. He’s a little miffed, and he’s surprised by how much he knows he’ll miss her, but he’s ultimately glad to be able to stay with his boys and recover for a while. Yet, after nearly a week of sparring with the Chargers and other soldiers in the Inquisition, he starts to get bored. Sure, his crew and many of the new recruits have been steadily getting better but sparring means having to hold back his strength. Bull starts to daydream about cleaving through demons with a single swing of his sword and crushing red templars skulls under his heel. 

“C’mon, boss, get your head out of the clouds!” Krem thrusts his sword forward, confident that Bull will dodge out of the way, even when distracted.

Bull grunts and sidesteps clumsily, slicing his sword across the air to knock Krem’s weapon away. “Don’t tell me you're taking it easy on me, Krem!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Krem pivots on one foot, following the motion of Bull’s body with purpose. “I think you’re the one not giving it your all, too busy thinking about your Lady Inquisitor?”

That pulls a laugh out of Bull as he knocks Krem’s sword away again, “Shut up, you damn Vint!”

“Ha! Hit the nail on the head did I?” Krem backs up before rushing forward, Bull raises his sword to use as a shield and they collide. Metal clangs against metal and Bull grins at Krem over their swords. Krem rolls his eyes then slams his foot down onto Bull’s.

“Hey!” Bull exclaims, quickly and dramatically hopping back and away. “That’s fightin’ dirty!” 

Krem lifts his sword in front of him, squaring his shoulders to prepare for Bull’s retaliation. “That’s just how it’s done back in Tevinter I suppose.” 

Bull shakes his head with a wry smile on his face and mimics his friend’s pose. “I can fight dirty too y’know?”

“Finally not distracted anymore?”

“Oh, shut it!” Bull glares at Krem’s teasing chuckle. “Just come at me already!”

Just as Krem moves forward, a voice interrupts them. 

“Okay boys, important message for Iron Bull, so hold it!” Scout Harding shouts. 

Krem and Bull skid to a stop, their sword hands falling by their sides as they turn to face her. 

Bull speaks first, “Hey there, Harding!” his voice booms across the courtyard. “Here I thought you were out with the Inquisitor.”

Harding nods, shooting a smile at Krem before answering Bull. “I was, yes, but the Inquisitor wanted a few messages back as soon as possible.” She jabs a thumb onto her collarbone as she pulls out a piece of parchment from the bag at her side. “And yours truly was the only one she felt could do it.” 

Bull steps forward and takes the message, murmuring a thank you as he begins to read.

“Besides,” Harding continues, “I’d finished scoping out the Hinterlands for the most part, my other scouts can take care of the rest.”

Bull makes a noise of acknowledgement and zones out as Harding and Krem start to chit chat, his attention on Asala’s handwriting.

_The Iron Bull,_

_How’ve you been, you big lug? I’m missing you terribly! I imagine you feel the same, don’t know how you survive a day without me. I know you want to tell me about all your adventures without me in Skyhold but I’m pleased to say that you don’t need to write a letter back._

Bull’s brow raises, intrigued.

_Surprise! I require some assistance, a special mission if you will; and since I’ve sent Cassandra to help Varric with something, I need the next best warrior I could think of! Too bad Blackwall is unavailable, so you’ll have to do I suppose._

He guffaws at that, makes a mental note to show Blackwall the letter sometime soon.

_Ask Harding if you have any questions but I think this should be all you need to know: bring your biggest sword._

_\- A. Adaar_

_P.S. Sera says hello._

Bull grins, notes the little doodle at the bottom of the page Sera must’ve drawn, “Biggest sword, huh, Asala?” He shudders, already excited to see what she has in store. “Hey, Harding.”

“Yes, Iron Bull?”

“Any idea what’s waiting for me out there?” 

Harding shakes her head and shrugs in an _I don’t know_ gesture, but her sharp smile gives her away. “She said it’s a surprise, didn’t she?”

————

Bull arrives in the Hinterlands as quickly as he can, the small group of Inquisition members sent with him easily keep up and for that he is glad. He tells them he certainly doesn’t want to keep the Inquisitor waiting, but he knows he’s just rushing to sate his own curiosity. 

The scout in charge leads them to the Dusklight camp just as the sun begins to rise over the Hinterlands, the sounds of the hidden camp floating over the rocks as they draw near. 

Bull calls out to no one in particular as his little group comes through the stone passageway, “Good morning, Inquisition!”

A few half awake soldiers grumble a reply, Bull nods at them as he walks through the camp to find Asala’s tent. He passes Sera’s and Dorian’s tents, he finds it funny how completely opposite their tents look. Tucked into an alcove in the stone sits Asala’s immediately recognizable tent, the size gives it away. Right as he spots it, the fabric parts. A startlingly white head of hair pokes through, loose and unbraided around Asala’s shoulders as she stretches to her full height. 

He smiles at the sleepy look on her face, even after years of travelling she never seems to get used to waking up early it seems. “Morning!” he shouts to her. Her head whips around at the sound of his voice, her sedated expression instantly brightening when she sees his smile. Without thinking, she starts rushing forward.

“Bull!” she shrieks childishly as she makes a beeline toward him, “You’ve _finally_ made it!”

“Boss!” Bull drops his bag to the ground and holds out his arms, knowing that she’ll dramatically throw herself into his arms when she reaches him.

“Hey there,” she says while pressing her cheek against his, their horns clacking against each other.

Bull presses his face back into hers, sighing as she ropes her arms around his neck. “Missed you.”

Asala pulls her face away, just enough to meet Bull’s gaze. He almost frowns at the new scar across her cheek but instead decides to kiss it and is rewarded with her smile. 

“Alright,” she taps the back of his neck twice, “Let me get back on my feet so I can get you up to speed.”

Once he sets her down, Asala takes Bull’s arm and his dropped bag to pull him to the potions table where she begins to restock his supplies. 

“Varric has something to take care of with a contact, he asked if he could sort a few things out before I get too involved,” She pokes around Bull’s satchel for a second, counting his potions out loud under her breath. “Cassandra is with him so there’s a chance he’ll survive ‘til tomorrow.”

Bull twists a loose strand of her hair around his finger before tucking it behind her ear, “Aw, boss, that’s cruel, sending ‘em together like that.”

Asala wrinkles her nose at him, stuffing a few glass vials into his bag. “Ha ha, they were getting along just fine on the ride here, okay? Anyway, tomorrow Cass, Dorian, and I will be accompanying Varric on his mission.”

“So,” Bull reaches across the table to grab an extra fortifying potion, “Why did you call me in? If I won’t be joining you I mean.”

“Varric is still a day’s journey away so we won’t be going to Valammar until dawn tomorrow. I know you don’t wanna squeeze into some dwarven caves, right? Sera certainly doesn’t. Instead, I need you for something that requires brute strength,” Asala scratches the base of one of her horns as she turns to Bull, her wide grin all teeth. “Today, we’re going dragon hunting.” 

Bull’s smile is razor sharp, “ _Boss!_ You shouldn’t have!”

————

“Bull, _now!_ ” Asala’s voice holds an edge of desperation, Bull can see her losing her hold on the dragon's hide.

He charges forward, the rune in his greatsword glows blindingly when he plunges the blade into Frostback’s neck. The beast howls pitifully as it thrashes its head and tail wildly. Asala stabs her daggers into the dragon’s thick skin, giving out a whooping, gleeful scream as she tries to hang on. Bull twists his sword in the dragon’s neck and it gives one final shriek before beginning to succumb. The dragon shudders then stops moving after a moment before it lets out a final breath.

Bull wrenches his sword out of the beast, wiping his brow before holding his hand out to help Asala down. She pulls her daggers out of the dragon’s head with a grunt and slides down the dragon’s body into his waiting arm.

When he helps her down from the dragon’s leg she's beaming; dark blood splattered across her face makes her teeth and hair look lightning white. Asala wipes at her forehead with the back of her wrist, flushed with exertion, her hair singed and bloody where her braid has come undone and Iron Bull thinks he's never found her more beautiful. Before she can speak, he wraps his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her forward to land a hard kiss on her mouth, not bothering to wipe her lips. Asala throws her arms around Bull’s middle, pointing her daggers away from him so the smooth pommels press into his spine.

Bull feels Asala moan more than he hears it when he brings his other arm around her waist and squeezes; her lips part for his tongue, the metallic tang of blood overpowering the taste of mint. They only pull away when they hear Sera snicker loudly. Asala’s eyes glimmer mirthfully when she sees his now crimson grin, they step away from each other when Sera elbows Asala in the side teasingly.

Dorian scoffs good-naturedly, brushing dust and ash as best he can off the front of his robe, “Come, Sera. We must leave before he decides to take our dear Inquisitor right on the ground.” 

“Dorian, please,” Asala laughs while she wipes the blood off her daggers onto her gauntlets, “There's a perfectly good dragon to lean on,” Bull growls when she winks at him then pulls her into another searing kiss.

Sera’s cackle fades into an _ew_ and she tugs Asala away by the hand; they whisper and giggle conspiratorially while Asala begins to loot the corpse for parts and Sera rips her arrows from its thick hide. Bull moves to the other side of the dragon, plucking off scales as he feels Dorian’s healing magic pass over the party. 

Asala rises from her crouch by the dragon’s neck and gestures for them to leave. “Best to leave the rest for our scouts. Let’s get back to camp and wash up!”

Bull and Dorian walk to where Asala and Sera stand, Sera immediately launching into a conversation about standing on Bull’s shoulders and shooting from there. They walk down the hill, Sera at his right and Dorian in front, talking animatedly until Sera brings up ice cream and beer. 

“Uh, sure. That’s... not at all the same thing, but all right,” Bull laughs it off, in too much of a good mood to prod Sera further. He turns his head to glance back at Asala as Sera and Dorian get into it about magic.

Asala is kneeling at the Frostback’s open mouth, her back to the rest of her party. Her ivory hair whips around her horns in the wind but she’s too occupied to push it out of her face, arms halfway into the dragon’s maw. Her hands fly back at the force of her wrenching something out of its jaw: a _tooth_. Bull’s head whips back to Sera and Dorian sharply, his heart thrumming in his throat. 

_____

Bull wonders when Asala learned to school her usually wildly expressive face, wonders if maybe he’s slipping, then thinks she’s seen him do it enough times that she was bound to pick up a few things. 

He’s acutely aware of the outline of the tooth in the pouch attached to her saddle as the party finally reaches Skyhold. He clenches his fists around his mount’s reins, grateful that the drawbridge seems to be lowered quicker than normal. Asala rides a bit ahead of Bull and Dorian to the stables, Sera’s arms are wrapped around her waist as usual, stubbornly refusing to properly ride as long as there’s room on someone else’s horse. Somewhere along the ride Sera nodded off, head pinned to Asala’s shoulder blade. 

Blackwall offers to help Dorian off his horse, the mage responds by dismounting perfectly. Blackwall just nods then moves to pull Sera off Asala’s back, chuckling quietly when Sera sleepily clings to the qunari, then carries her through the courtyard and off to her room. Asala jumps down and meets Bull’s eye.

“I’m thinking you and I should celebrate,” She unclips her bags from her mount and rolls her shoulders. “Josie already has something planned for tomorrow, but I think a drink or two would do us just fine for tonight.”

Bull smirks, “I have just the thing, boss.”

_____

The tavern is teeming with people when Bull and Asala walk in, nearly everyone tries to buy her a drink just to hear the story of how the Inquisitor killed a _high dragon_! Asala loudly tells the crowd a few details, reminding them they’ll be able to see part of the dragon tomorrow, the whole tavern seems to shake with cheers. 

Bull throws an arm around her shoulders, his other hand holding a dark jug, and maneuvers them around the various revelers, tucking them into a corner so Asala at least a bit shielded from her followers. He drops by her side, already uncorking his bottle of Maraas-Lok while Asala leans into his side.

“You’d think I’d be used to this much attention, huh?”

Bull signals Cabot, gesturing for two tankards, “I don’t think anyone could get used to what you put up with honestly,” Cabot plops the tankards down and Bull slides him a few gold pieces before pouring for him and Asala. “Here, this’ll help.”

Asala takes her mug and sniffs it suspiciously before wrinkling her nose, “Maraas-Lok?” She laughs incredulously, “Even my parents hated this stuff.” 

“Well mister and missus Adaar aren’t here to protest, drink up,” he says before taking a swig. 

Asala chuckles and follows suit before violently coughing into her elbow as Bull laughs at her.

“You ass!” she manages to choke out, “You could’ve warned me!”

Bull’s laugh is loud and hearty, “Then you wouldn’t have had any! C’mon, the second drink is easier, Asala.”

She gives him a bitter look but drinks with him again anyway, just to launch into a fit of coughing and gagging between laughs.

“To killing a high dragon, like warriors of legend!” Bull cheers, a few patrons of the tavern cheer with him.

“Bull,” Asala leans her head against his shoulder, “You yelled something during battle but I couldn’t understand it, what was it?”

“Taarsidath-an halsaam?” Bull smirks and pours more into their mugs, “Well, it means ‘I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect’.”

Asala chortles, “Of course you said that while it was spitting fire at us,” She takes another drink, not needing to cough as much this time, she groans and presses her fingers to her throat. “Maker, this is stronger than I thought it would be.” 

Bull tilts his head down to kiss Asala’s temple, laughing a bit, “Most of the nerves in your throat will be dead in a bit, don’t worry.”

Asala rolls her eyes and intertwines her fingers with Bull’s free hand, “Tell me more things in Qunlat, Bull.”

He squeezes her hand and hums thoughtfully, “Ataashi. The glorious ones. That’s our word for them. _Ataaaaashi._ ”

“My parents thought of them that way too, even after leaving the Qun,” Asala muses as she pours into both their mugs, they both take drinks with their free hands.

“A few of the Ben-Hassrath have this crazy old theory,” Bull clears his throat. “They say maybe the tamassrans mixed in some dragon a long time ago.”

Asala guffaws, “Like what? With magic or something? They’d never!”

Bull shrugs, “Maybe drinking the blood, I don’t know! But something in that dragon… spoke to me.”

Asala gulps down another sip, wrinkling her nose a bit. “When you put it like that, I feel a bit awkward. Like I killed a Qunari god or something.”

“Nah, one of Tevinter’s gods maybe,” Bull downs the rest of his tankard. “Dragons are the embodiment of raw power, but it’s all uncontrolled, savage. Think of what we did as taming the wild.”

Bull tilts his drink to her so Asala taps her mug against his, they drink.

“Order out of chaos,” she says.

“To dragons!” he replies, they drink.

“To the Iron Bull!” Asala grins, they drink.

Bull tilts her chin up to plant a kiss on her lips, admiring the alcohol induced flush to her skin, “To his ass-kicking inquisitor!” They drink, coughing and laughing in equal measure.

“This shit is awful, Bull, never make me drink it again,” Asala groans, shaking her head as if to clear it.

“And yet,” He finishes pouring the bottle, splitting it as evenly as he can, “You’ll continue to drink.”

“Only because I know you’ll take care of me tomorrow, kadan.” 

As soon as the word leaves her mouth, Asala freezes, mug halfway to her lips. Her eyes go wide and unfocused before she tilts the mug up and downs the rest of the alcohol, sputtering as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“I am,” she croaks, “So sorry that kind of, uh, just came out, Bull! I don’t— I didn’t mean to say anything, I think I am… way more drunk than I thought I was!” she finally turns her head to look at him, his face almost blank except for his raised brow. “Sweet Maker, please say something!”

Bull watches her blush grow from embarrassment, watches her brows crease in worry, and right when she seems like she’s about to speak again he takes her face in his hand and kisses her.

Asala sighs in relief, kissing him back in earnest, before pulling back and apologizing again. 

Bull smiles against her lips, kissing her again, “Hey, kadan, I always want to say this, and I never can when we’re off saving the world.”

Asala nods, breathless, “Yes?”

“You’ve got fantastic tits.”

Asala laughs, loud and brilliant, before pulling him back to her lips, “And you’ve got a great ass!”

————

_Shink. Shink. Shink._

The file glides across the blade in a steady rhythm, small showers of sparks occasionally fly past Bull’s fingers and he absently wonders if he should've worn gloves after all. He sets the file down in the grass to reach for the flask on his belt. A friend he once had in Seheron made a miracle hangover cure, Bull hasn’t had to bust it out in a good long while so he’s glad to see it still works, even if it does still taste like death. He gulps down the rest of the liquid, wrinkling his nose in distaste before tucking it away. The glass clinks against a matching flask, more of the potion he’s saving for Asala. 

Bull picks up the file and resumes sharpening his axe, _shink shink shink_. He huffs at the thought of being all but physically thrown out of Asala’s room by Josephine this morning. The Antivan insisted that the Inquisitor was dressed to her standards while so many nobles were visiting, it was all he could do to kiss Asala good morning before Josephine dragged her out of bed. 

No matter, he would see her at the ceremony soon enough. He found himself smirking at the thought of an overdressed, hungover, and ultimately disgruntled Asala looking down on a crowd of stuffy humans while the head of a _dragon_ she helped kill sat on display. 

“Bull!” he’s pulled out of his fantasy by Sera sticking her head out of her window to yell down at him. “Put that rubbish away and let’s get moving, yea?” 

“Says the girl still in her room?” Bull chuckles when she sticks her tongue out before disappearing from his sight for just a minute before showing up beside him. He props his axe against the wall of the tavern, confident it’ll be there when he returns as no one else can lift it.

“C’mon, slowpoke, I wanna see Asala’s face dealing with all those noble pissfaces!” Sera grabs his arm and pulls, not actually moving him in the slightest but Bull starts to walk along with her.

“Sera, do me a favor,” Bull pulls Asala’s potion off his hip and holds it out for her. “I think I might be too big to sneak this to Asala, but I know you could do it in a heartbeat.”

Sera takes the flask from him and uncorks it, giving it a sniff before giving a loud _bleh_ , “What will I be getting out of this?”

“I’d bet coin Asala will kiss you once you tell her it’s from me, so there’s that, but how about a favor for a favor?”

Sera giggles, ideas for future mischief already brewing, “Holding you to that!”

They reach the main hall and find it to be even more crowded than expected, the chatter and clinking of glasses feels almost oppressive, Bull hears Sera groan in displeasure and pats her back reassuringly. Thankfully Josephine, who looks like she’s having the time of her life and a crisis all at once, appears and ushers them to a spot that seems semi clear of people, except for Dorian, before rushing away again. 

“Ah, you two have finally decided to join me, hm?” Dorian sounds slightly annoyed as he swipes a new chalice of wine off of a passing tray, but Bull can tell he’s relieved to have some of the attention off of him. “I’ve been fending off question after question when _you’re_ the one that actually got close to the damn beast!” 

Sera’s mocking laugh fades as she sneaks into the crowd, Bull watches her blonde hair weave and bob between the visiting nobles until a small crowd gathers in front of him and Dorian.

“You’ve done it now,” the mage remarks, “They’re clamoring to see _another_ big, exotic qunari.” 

“Aw, Dorian, you like that I’m big.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Bull laughs at how exasperated Dorian sounds and ignores the stares and whispers of the nobles in favor of checking for Sera again. He finds her already tucking the potion into Asala’s palm, pointing back over her shoulder towards Bull. Asala smiles at Sera, uncorking the glass as she bends over to kiss Sera’s forehead. His attention is pulled away from the two after that, a particularly bold nobleman steps forward to flirt with him and Dorian under the guise of asking questions about the dragon slaying. 

Bull crosses his arms over chest and gives dry, blunt answers to him but the noble isn’t discouraged by him in the slightest; nor is he distracted by Dorian’s own flirtations. 

Right as the man steps forward to place a hand on Bull’s bicep, Asala slips in between them to take his hand in a handshake.

“Marquis Etienne!” she says jovially, “How wonderful that you could make it! Lady Josephine must’ve missed you on your way in, I know she’s anxious to see you, so please do seek her out.” 

Bull wants to laugh, both at the marquis’ face and the fact that Asala is using her Inquisitor voice to leave no room for argument. Etienne nods and stutters out a response before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd, Bull can envision the tail between his legs.

Asala huffs and turns to face Bull and Dorian, the slightly strained smile on her face melting into a softer, realer one. “Please tell me you two are as miserable as I am.”

“You’re having a worse time, I’m afraid,” Dorian muses, smirking over his drink, “It might be difficult to shoo suitors away from your lover, you’re lucky you caught the marquis in time.”

“Yes,” Bull throws an arm around Asala’s waist and pulls her to his side, chuckling when Asala tugs at her uncomfortable collar, “I was about to run off with him actually.”

Asala groans and rolls her eyes, “I’m glad you two are having fun at least, I’m going to be stuck here for at least another few hours but I don’t think Josie will keep you two here for that long,” she pulls the potion Sera gave her out of her pocket and takes a long drink, “Sera’s already snuck out actually.”

“I think I might be the next to escape, dear Inquisitor,” Dorian throws back the rest of his wine, “Forgive me, a very handsome vicomte has been making eyes at me for the better part of an hour.”

Asala pats his shoulder as he walks away, “Have fun!” she calls teasingly, Dorian doesn’t dignify that with a response. “So when will you break out of here?”

“I like you, but not enough to wait in this zoo for you. Sorry, boss.”

Asala bumps her hip into his, frowning. “I wouldn’t ask you to, idiot.”

“I do need to see you later though.”

“I know.”

He squeezes her waist, “Find me when you’re done.”

————

Night has fallen by the time Asala’s inquisitor duties are done and, in the end, Bull is the one who ends up seeking her out. His knuckles rap a steady pattern on her door for a moment before he opens it to find Asala halfway down the stairs, her night clothes on and hair still in the elaborate updo Josephine pinned up this morning. 

“Hello,” she says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think today would take so long and—”

“Asala,” Bull interrupts, “You’re alright, I know.”

He reaches out for her hand and leads her up the stairs and into her lounge area before sitting on the couch, pulling her down and into his side, arm thrown over her shoulder. Asala sighs, throwing an arm over his stomach and hiding her face in his chest. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Bull idly tracing shapes onto her arm as her breaths fan out against his skin. He thinks she’s fallen asleep as her body relaxes more and more but then she speaks.

“I don’t want you to hate me but, if it’s always like this, I don’t think I want to hunt another dragon.”

Bull chuckles, feels her smile against him, and they lapse into silence again for a minute or two, Bull silently collecting his thoughts.

“Boss,” he starts, his tone light in a calculated way.

“Bull, please, I just—” Asala moves to sit up but Bull puts gentle pressure on her shoulder to keep her in place.

“Let me talk.”

She doesn’t try to move again, just taps her fingers in an anxious rhythm on his skin. “Okay.”

“You remember yesterday? At the tavern, I mean.”

“I didn’t drink enough to forget, just enough to open my big mouth it seems.”

“Then you should remember that I opened my mouth too.”

Asala makes a noise of agreement and pauses for a moment, then, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or made you feel like you _had_ to say it back, Bull. I just didn’t expect the drink to make me so loose-lipped and, Maker, I certainly didn’t expect to call you… er, that. Of all the things I could’ve said, damn it.”

Bull starts to pull out the pins holding her hair up, carding his fingers through the strands as they fall around her neck. He frowns at the regretful tone of Asala’s words, was he wrong to assume the dragon’s tooth was for him? Maybe she was just getting it for Dagna or simply for herself or for any other reason unrelated to their relationship. It dawns on him that, for all her poking and prodding, she’s never once asked about how qunari show that they’re serious. For some reason, he’d come to the conclusion that her parents were kadan and, as a result, Asala would’ve known the tradition.

 _Shit,_ he thinks, _am I losing my edge?_ He furrows his brows, upset with himself for making assumptions without much thought. 

This is alright, he can turn this around. If she’s uncomfortable, he’ll back off, keep what they have going light and easy from now on. It’ll sting to keep her at arm’s length and ignore his feelings, sure, but it’s a better alternative to pushing her too far.

“Asala, I—”

“Oh, Bull, I’d been planning it for so long and for it to come out while I was drunk is so aggravating!” 

Bull pushes her shoulder back, forcing her to meet his eye. “Planning what?”

Asala blanches, just stares at him for a moment before jumping up out of his grasp. “Just a moment!”

Bull watches her cross the room in quick, long strides to fling open her closet door and throw herself inside. He hears shuffling and, just as swiftly as she went in, she comes out with a bundle of fabric in her hands. 

“Here,” Asala says, sitting down on the couch and holding her hands in front of him, pointedly not looking at his face. “The plan was to wait a bit longer, I was working with Harritt and Dagna to fashion special armor to stick it in, I was thinking of a new pauldron.” She pulls back the top of the fabric to reveal one dragon’s tooth, split perfectly in half with chains connected at each half’s base. “But, instead, I made them into necklaces.” Asala smiles softly and traces the curve of one half with a finger. “It’s… well, it’s how my parents wore theirs. No matter how far apart life took them, they were always together.”

Bull lifts a hand and slides his finger over the sleek, cold other half. He tries to duck his head down to meet Asala’s eyes, he knows she can see him doing so but she doesn’t lift her head. 

“Maker, Bull, I’m sorry! I didn’t let you speak and I just assumed you wanted this, I didn’t even ask, I—”

“Asala.” 

Her mouth shuts as Bull uses his other hand to tilt her head up by her chin. Bull nods at her and takes one of the necklaces in hand, gliding his calloused palm across the smooth tooth before unclasping the chain. He pulls his hand around his neck, fastens the chain, and adjusts the tooth in place on the center of his chest. It’s still cool to the touch but warms quickly on his skin, his hand can’t seem to move off it for more than a second. 

Bull watches Asala’s eyes track his every movement, watches her go from looking almost ill with nervousness to quietly pleased. Neither of them break the silence when he moves to take the other necklace out of her hands, her eyes glued to his fingers as they unfasten the chain. He holds the necklace up in the air in front of her, each end of the chain in each hand. Asala’s eyes flick up to his face then down then back up again. 

Asala smiles at him and leans forward, touching her lips to his as he brings his hands behind her neck. She tilts her head against his, sighing as the necklace settles around her neck and his hands, warm and big, move to cup her face. His thumb drags across a scar on her cheek as she slinks into his lap, almost giggling when their dragon tooth halves clink against each other. Hearing her sound so giddy makes his heart soar and he yanks her closer, their necklaces pinching uncomfortably against him but he can’t bring himself to move away. Asala does though, after another minute of exchanging kisses, beaming and flushed and so beautiful it makes Bull’s heart ache.

He runs a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear as she leans into his touch. “Not often people surprise me, kadan,” he says reverently. 

Asala laughs and touches her hands to his necklace, “Kadan,” she whispers, almost unbelieving, “My heart.”

————

It’s a crisp, sunny afternoon before Asala finally convinces Iron Bull to let them leave her chambers. Now they’re kadan, with a necklace and a myriad of hickeys as proof. They walk through the great hall to join the rest of the inner circle for lunch. Asala kisses his cheek and leaves his side to sit between Sera and Cole, across from Dorian, while he chooses to sit at the other end of the table with Cassandra, Blackwall, and Varric. He watches Asala show everyone their split dragon tooth with wild pride in her smile and fondness in her eyes. Bull feels his heart soar and he slides his fingers over the ridges of his own necklace to remind himself that this is all real. 

Varric catches Bull’s gaze and winks at him with a smile, “Good catch, Tiny,” Varric raises his tankard of ale slightly and drinks.

“Thanks, Varric,” Bull starts to pile food onto his plate with a smile as Cassandra prods Varric about his next book. As he sets his plate down, Bull steals another look at Asala. 

She’s laughing heartily at something Sera’s stage whispered in her ear, nose scrunched and eyes shut tight so her lashes kiss her cheeks. Bull thinks she’s so dazzling that she puts the sun itself to shame.

Blackwall at his side asks Bull about his ideal blade and armor as he tucks into his roast ram. Bull pulls his eyes away from his kadan and his friends, thinks for a moment and answers Blackwall before laughing at his scandalized response to dawnstone. 

Bull turns his head and finds Asala looking back at him, smiling with her head tilted slightly. Bull memorizes the way her hair frames her neck so attractively, wishes they had spent another day alone together yet knows they’ll have time soon. For now, there is the heavy weight of a dragon’s tooth, the noise of his new family, no demands of the Qun; Bull’s grin is so wide it makes his face ache.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading 🥺


End file.
